


Good Wife

by Colonel_Murph



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Husbands, M/M, Stereotypes, wife - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Murph/pseuds/Colonel_Murph
Summary: Three times Jack felt like Ianto’s wife (And the one time he realized it was actually the other way around)
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	Good Wife

When Jack opened the door to Ianto’s flat after a long, tiring day of dealing with disaster after disaster at the hub, he expected to be greeted with a calm serenity, the warm cosy feeling he always felt in his chest within the walls of a place that was fast becoming home, and the even warmer embrace of his boyfriend.

Instead he heard Ianto shouting abuse and Owen’s chortling assaulting his ears, “Come on Ianto, is that the best you can do?”

“Shut up,” Ianto sounded like someone had pissed in his coffee, “the only reason your winning is because you’ve got the good controller you twat.”

“You kiss our boss with that nasty mouth?” Owen hooted.

“I do a lot more than kiss him with it- ha!” He laughed, obviously proud of himself for distracting Owen enough to take the lead, “Take that!”

“Yeah, well, fuck you!”

Jack slid his coat off and hung it up by the door, all the while shaking his head to the slightly concerning sound of his boyfriends evil sniggering. When he’d told Ianto to let loose and enjoy his day off this hadn’t been what he’d had in mind. He’d been hoping to come home to a chilled out, maybe even slightly horny boyfriend, not an overexcited pair of children bickering in the living room. He couldn’t ask Ianto the question he’d been putting off for too long as it was with Owen lurking about, the small black velvet box would be staying in his pocket for another evening it seemed.

Sighing, he moved to the kitchen, hoping that a snack would tempter his urge to throw Owen out the door and slam it in his face. After a whole day working with him he needed a break, the two hours he’d stayed back late after letting everyone else go didn’t count.

“Jack,” Ianto twisted around on the sofa, a surprised expression on his face as he paused the game he and Owen were playing, “your text said you were staying at the hub tonight.” He had said that, he’d wanted to surprise him but it looks like Ianto beat him to the punch. It was times like this that Jack was harshly reminded of just how young his boyfriend was, here he was dressed in jeans and a ratty jumper, with wide bambi eyes and a messy head of hair. Without the suit and carefully sculpted persona wrapped around him like armour he was less lethal-butler and more adorable-puppy.

For a second Jack forgot his fatigue as Ianto smiled at him. His building headache and annoyance at Owen for ruining his evening was dulled and everything faded into the background as he took a moment to simply bask in the warmth of Ianto’s soft smile.

Then Owen ruined it, “Bam! You’re dead teaboy, I win,” shoving his shoulder he almost knocked Ianto off the sofa, “suck it!”

“Hey,” Glaring at his friend, Ianto righted himself and turned back to the screen, “that’s not fair!”

“Well,” Owen smirked as Ianto started a rematch, “if you hadn’t been ogling your wife over there you would have noticed I unpaused the game wouldn’t ya?”

Jack shook his head, sighing again before moving to the kitchen as the two of them dissolved into childish bickering behind him once more. There was always tomorrow night.

-

Jack paced the length of the hall for what felt like the hundredth time, worry gnawing at his heart and stomach as he waited to hear back from Owen. It had been a routine rift retrieval, he’d sent Gwen and Ianto out to grab the latest piece of tat five hours ago, by Torchwood standards it was nothing more than a coffee run for the two of them at this point but everything had gone horribly wrong. 

Seven steps, heel spin, seven steps, over and over. The clock on the wall was absurdly loud, the seconds ticking by were practically deafening as Jack resisted the urge to rip the hospital doors open and demand an update from the various doctors and nurses working on stabilising his fiancé. 

The waiting was the worst part, in a strange way it was oddly reminiscent of the war. He realised with a lurch that this must have been what all his soldiers wive’s must have felt like in the moments before he regretfully informed them that their husbands wouldn’t be coming home. God, he felt sick, Ianto had to be okay. 

He had to be.

Before he had a chance to resume his pacing, the door clicked open softly and the sound of hesitant footsteps could be heard. Belatedly, Jack realised that he hadn’t stopped pacing until he almost mowed Owen down, the mans scrubs coated in slick red blood that didn’t belong there.

“He’s going to be fine,” Owen told him bluntly, allowing the tightness in Jack’s chest to loosen slightly, “gave us one hell of a scare though, be a good wife and grab him something fluffy from the giftshop downstairs,” he winked with a ghost of a teasing smile, “he’s going to be a right arse when he wakes up and realises he’s in hospital.”

-

If there was one thing Jack truly hated about 21st century Cardiff it was the god awful radio presenters that cut off his music to garble useless trivia at him when he could otherwise be belting out the classic earth ballads. He’d been happily singing along to the latest ear worm, alone in the SUV and feeling half his age, on his way home to seduce his husband when a voice cut in and ruined his fun, “-make him a nice dinner, treat your husband to one of his wild fantasises? This is a message to all the loving wives out there, give your husbands something to celebrate this husband appreciation day!’”

Now that… wasn’t an awful idea. While Jack was well aware he wasn’t technically Ianto’s wife, he was something better, his husband.

And as his husband it really was a tragic oversight that he hadn’t been made aware of this 21st century holiday. Ianto knew all about the holidays celebrated in the 51st century after all, it was only fair to return the favour. With a quick detour to the supermarket Jack picked up a couple of Ianto’s favourite things, a nice bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, some fancy coffee beans and it would have been a wasted trip if he didn’t grab a bunch of roses too. Ianto might protest he wasn’t a flowers sort of guy but Jack knew better. 

He’d be sure to show his husband just how appreciative he was.

-

“So, which of you is the wife?” The rude question came from an officer Jack had noticed lurking about at a handful of the crime scenes Torchwood had taken over in the last couple of months. He was a short man, hair thinning on the sides and his beady little eyes were full of judgement as they flickered between him and Ianto. He’d never bothered to learn his name but Jack had no doubt Ianto had run a background check if his exhausted eyeroll was anything to go by.

Swiftly stepping between them, prepared to spare his husband the grief of dealing with the pesky bigot, Jack sighed. It was questions like these that seriously had him concerned for the mental state of humanity in this era, the whole point was that neither of them was a ‘wife’ they were both men, husbands, end of. How could he not understand that, really-

“Well, if you’re talking about who better conforms to the stereotypical ‘wifely’ duties then that’ll be me,” Ianto interrupted calmly, a completely serious look on his face as he slid his PDA back in his suit jacket, “hands down.”

“Excuse me?” Jack was so shocked he let out an undignified snort, “c’mon you’re not the wife.”

Arching an eyebrow, Ianto counted off on his fingers, “I cook, clean and don’t even get me started on taking care of our… exotic pets-”

Jack scoffed, having now completely disregarded the officer who started them on this path in the first place as he tried to prove his point, “I think you’ll find that I’m the one who takes Janet on her walks actually and since when do you cook? Pot noodles don’t count I’m afraid.”

“I wash the dishes you leave to pile up, rinsing out one mug a week and leaving dirty pots to ‘soak’ isn’t washing up. Honestly Jack, do you even remember the last time you replaced your clothes?” Ianto was on a roll, “I’m the one who goes out to buy replacements for all the ones you get covered with blood stains, when’s the last time you organised your half of the wardrobe, hmm?”

“Fine, okay?” Jack smirked, a great idea coming together in his minds eye, “We can both be the wives, oooh, we can even expand our dressing up box too if you like.”

“You’re hopeless,” said Ianto, shaking his head fondly as Jack snaked an arm around his waist.

Kissing him softly on the forehead Jack smiled into his skin, “You love it really.”

Yeah, thought Ianto as he pulled him in for a proper kiss, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, I wrote this instead of sleeping so no doubt I’ll look back on it tomorrow and cringe at the hundreds of spelling and grammar mistakes. But hey, it’s better than nothing right?? :)


End file.
